Exploding Snap
by jaythekoala
Summary: "…on the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again." Only, she wasn't – not at first, at least. It takes more than time to recover from being possessed by Lord Voldemort for nearly a year, but the black-haired boy who rescued her from the Chamber challenging her to a game probably helped with that.


The Gryffindor common room is as loud and raucous as ever, as Ginny Weasley sits in the far corner, reading a book.

Ginny isn't much of a reader. She's certainly no Hermione Granger, put it that way. She'd sooner be outside, hurling garden gnomes or playing Quidditch (not that any of her idiot brothers know about the latter). Even if she has to stay indoors, she'll take a game of wizards' chess, Gobstones or Exploding Snap any day. But right now…

She tries to justify it to herself. What seems like half her first year at Hogwarts is missing, blank spots in her memory, thanks to _him_. So she has to hit the books and study everything she's missed. Of course, the year's exams have been cancelled, but at this rate, she'll be way behind everyone else when second year comes around. She needs to catch up.

Still, a niggling voice inside of her, with a nasty sort of honesty, tells her she's just trying to avoid thinking about the truth. That is, that no one wants to talk to her or play a game with her. Nobody wants to hang out with the stupid girl who set Slytherin's monster on the castle, Petrified several students and nearly killed Harry Potter. She doesn't know exactly how the whole school came to know the story; Dumbledore was impressively vague about her role when he made his explanation at the feast, and she knows neither Ron nor Harry would ever tell. Still, this is Hogwarts. Secrets have a way of getting out.

Ginny sneaks a glance over the top of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. Almost immediately, she wishes she hadn't. A few girls from Ginny's dormitory are glancing her way and stop talking as soon as she looks up; Ginny doesn't need to be a genius to guess what they're talking about. A few older students are giving her too wide a berth to be entirely coincidental. Ron, Hermione and Harry are sitting in the opposite corner, chatting quietly. Colin Creevey, who is coming downstairs from the boys' dormitory, catches Ginny's eye and then turns and scoots back up where he came from.

Her stomach feeling decidedly sour now, Ginny returns to her book and tries to focus on Trans-Species Transformations. It's a hopeless cause. She just stares at the words without seeing them or taking them in.

Is this how she'll be known for the next six years at Hogwarts – as the girl who opened the Chamber of Secrets? She hasn't done anything else worth talking about. She has no friends and doesn't really blame the girls from her dorm for avoiding her. She'd done it first, after all – she'd rejected their friendly overtures in favour of writing in that stupid book. Then she'd been too worried about the attacks, and the suspicion she might be the one behind them, to open up to anyone. Towards the end, _he_ had had control of her so often that she trembles to think what he might have said and done to those around her.

No, everything's her fault, and she's getting what she deserves now. She'd been so sure that she'd be expelled if anyone found out the truth, but this – having to stay at Hogwarts and face everyone – this is worse. A thousand times worse. She wonders if, when she gets home, she can convince Mum and Dad to pull her out of Hogwarts and home-school her. Maybe, if she begs and pleads and cries enough…

Ginny doesn't notice someone crossing the room to join her until whoever it is sits right in front of her. She resolutely ignores them, staring intently at her Transfiguration book. Whatever it is they're going to say, it won't be good, and ignoring them is the best chance she has of getting them to leave her alone.

The person clears their throat. "Er… Ginny. Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"

It's Harry. With a squeak, Ginny drops the book. The corner jabs painfully into her leg and she winces. Her face is burning and she knows that it must be the same colour as her hair right now.

"Sorry," says Harry. He looks the same as ever, his black hair sticking out in every direction, and he's smiling at her. Actually smiling at her – no one has done that since… well, since Harry himself, back in the Chamber, when he'd told her _he_ was gone.

He's holding out a weather-beaten deck of Self-Shuffling Cards that Ginny recognises as Ron's old deck. "Well?"

Ginny belatedly remembers that she's supposed to answer his question.

"S-sure," she manages not to squeak this time. She pushes away her Transfiguration textbook to make room. Harry cuts the cards and hands half the deck to Ginny.

Exploding Snap is a simple enough game to play, which means it's normal to carry on a conversation while playing. In all honesty, this is exactly what Ginny is dreading. She fears Harry has come over out of concern, to ask if she's all right, to ask if she wants to talk about it, perhaps to tell her it's not her fault. She doesn't want that. She doesn't need the boy she fancies patronising her, or reminding her of how weak she is. That would be even worse than the stares and the accusations from everyone else.

But if Harry is thinking about any of those things, he doesn't say them. In fact, he doesn't speak at all, except to mutter, "Gotcha!" when he manages to claim a pair of aces an instant before Ginny does, and, "Nice one!" when Ginny beats him to a couple of sevens a few seconds later.

Before she knows it, Ginny finds herself relaxing for the first time in days, and getting into the game. Harry is winning, and Ginny isn't surprised: he has the reflexes of a Seeker, after all. She does surprise herself by winning a few rounds, however. Idly she wonders if perhaps she should try Seeking the next time she sneaks out to borrow her brothers' brooms. All her dreams of being a Quidditch star involve scoring goals, but there's no reason not to try something different, even if she'll never be good enough to take Harry's spot on the team…

Between them, Harry and Ginny manage to keep the cards from exploding for nearly two minutes, until both of them are too slow to notice a pair of jacks and – _bang!_ – they erupt in flames. Harry and Ginny both recoil just in time to avoid receiving a faceful of fire.

Harry laughs. It's infectious. Ginny giggles, too.

It's as Harry resets the cards that he finally speaks to her properly. "You know, we've got something in common, now."

Flipping a card over, Ginny asks, "What?"

Harry shrugs. "We've both faced – _him_. You know."

Ginny's heart plummets. This is about the Chamber, after all. Harry doesn't even think she's strong enough to hear _his_ name. What makes it worse is that he's probably right. If Harry'd said his name aloud – either his adopted name or his real one – Ginny would probably have knocked the pile of cards over by accident.

Ginny remains silent as the next few cards are flipped over – no matches. "You beat him, though," she murmurs at last. "I didn't."

She doesn't look up at Harry. She doesn't want to see the pity in his eyes.

Harry says nothing for a long moment. Then he replies, "You know, I didn't beat him, either."

 _That_ startles Ginny into looking up.

"What?" she says, bemused.

She is so distracted she doesn't really notice the last card she flipped: a six of spades, onto Harry's six of hearts. Until –

 _Bang!_

Ginny shrieks as the cards in front of her explode. She tries to move back, but too late – one of the burning cards hits her in the face and she shrieks again as she feels her eyebrows ignite. Five seconds later, the flames die. Ginny rubs at her eyebrows and groans as a mass of burnt hair is scraped away and falls to the floor.

"Don't worry," says Harry quickly, raising his wand. "I can fix this. McGonagall taught us last year."

Ginny gapes. McGonagall never taught her class how to regrow eyebrows this year – not that she remembers, anyway. "Is that even Transfiguration? Human Transfiguration is supposed to be really hard."

"I dunno." Harry laughs, mutters an incantation Ginny doesn't catch, and she feels her eyebrows grow back to normal. "There. Good as new. Last year, we had Transfiguration right after History of Magic. I think McGonagall just got sick of half of us turning up with our eyebrows missing."

He sets up the cards again, which allows Ginny to regain her train of thought. "What did you mean, when you say you didn't beat him?" she asks.

Harry seems to chew on his answer as they start playing again. This time, Ginny pays more attention to the cards. _Two of hearts, king of diamonds, four of clubs…_

"Yeah, I've faced him," says Harry at last. Ginny glances up at him and sees him staring down at the pile, plainly lost in thought. "But I've never beaten him because I was powerful or strong or smart or anything. It's always been someone else."

 _Three of clubs, three of spades_ – Ginny lunges forward and claims the pile of cards a split second before Harry. He smiles, clearly impressed, and Ginny feels the blood rush to her head again.

They carry on playing and Harry goes on. "Dumbledore said last year that I survived when I was a baby because my mum died to save me. She made a sort of shield – I don't really get it – that stopped Voldemort from killing me, and protected me from him last year. And then this year – in the Chamber – I'd have been nowhere without Fawkes and the Sorting Hat. They beat him, not me. I was just… there."

There's a silence. Ginny spots another pair – kings – but Harry is too quick for her this time.

"But you fought him, though," Ginny points out, flipping the next card to resume the game. "You did something. I was useless – I just let him…"

She trails off, watching the cards – _ace of spades, nine of diamonds_. She knows that if she says any more she'll start crying again. And that's the last thing she wants right now.

"You fought too," says Harry. Ginny looks up in surprise. "He told me. You tried to throw the diary away. And even when you had it back, he said you struggled and cried. He had to drag you down there."

Ginny doesn't remember any of this, apart from chucking the diary. She figures it's part of the memories she's missing.

"But it didn't do anything, did it?" she mutters, turning the next card over – _jack of clubs_ – so viciously that she nearly knocks the pile over. "It didn't make a difference."

"That's what I thought last year," says Harry. "Ron told you about the Philosopher's Stone, right?"

Ginny blinks, unsure where this is going. "A bit. He wouldn't tell me the whole story, but I think I badgered the important stuff out of him."

"Well, really, I didn't do much at all. Voldemort might never have gotten the Stone even if I hadn't been there. Dumbledore had a really good trap for him. And he's still out there – he'll probably just come back another way. So it didn't really make a difference either. But Dumbledore said something else last year – something like, if we keep fighting, we can keep delaying him, bit by bit, and he mightn't ever come back."

Ginny still doesn't quite understand what Harry is getting at, so she looks down again and watches the cards.

Harry sighs. "The point is, just fighting is what's really important, no matter how much difference it makes."

He pokes a pair of twos that Ginny missed. Ginny bites her lip. She is starting to run out of cards now.

"You know," adds Harry, "with the Chamber, and last year with the Stone, I just kept doing whatever I could think of. It was easy to fight because I didn't really have a choice, once I was there. But for you, the easy thing would've been to let Tom do whatever he wanted. You didn't. You tried to stop him, and now he's gone, and you're still here." His brilliant green eyes meet Ginny's for a moment. "I, er… I sort of really admire you for that. I don't think I could've done it."

He looks away, and he's blushing – actually _blushing_. This is, Ginny thinks, the first time Harry's been embarrassed in her presence, and not the other way around. Of course, the realisation makes her blush, too, and there's an awkward silence with both of them avoiding each other's gaze.

That then means both of them miss the cards trembling impatiently –

 _Bang!_

This time, Harry is the one sitting too close, and he yelps as his eyebrows are singed. He wipes away the residue and laughs. "Now _I_ look stupid, don't I?"

Ginny snickers. She can't help it. A warm feeling is blossoming inside of her. She's not sure if she really believes what Harry says, that her feeble attempts to resist Tom truly meant anything. But to hear Harry – the boy who saved her life, the hero who's beaten You-Know-Who three times – saying that he admires _her_ … somehow, she feels a lot lighter, as though a massive weight she's been carrying has been taken from her at last.

Harry points his wand at his own face and fixes his eyebrows. Ginny bends down to fix the game, and blinks. She has no cards left. Harry has won.

Harry is looking down at the cards too. He seems mildly surprised. Then he looks up, grins and extends his hand, always the picture of courtesy. "Good game, Ginny."

Ginny smiles. She marvels at how easily it comes, all of a sudden. She looks at Harry Potter – her brother's friend – _her friend_ – and takes his hand firmly.

"Good game, Harry."

 **Author's notes: This story was inspired by a quote from Ginny in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, act four, scene nine. I'd like to give credit to** **CharmHazel and** **LiveLaughLove728, who have both written excellent stories using the same concept.**

 **This is a one-shot. I do not anticipate writing anything further for this story.**

 **Thank you for reading, and please leave a review with any comments or constructive criticism.**


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